Authors note: This is for a competition by The Original Horcrux. It's a diary entry from the one and only Draco Malfoy. His life isn't going so well for him. This is written before 6th year begins. SPOILER ALERT! If you don't know what happens in the 6th Harry Potter, please take caution while reading this fic. Review please.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!
I don't know how much more of this I can take… I'm trying to bear with the pain, but I'm tired. I'm tired of being shouted at every day that I'm home, tired of being brutally beaten over the smallest thing, tired of feeling like I'm not good enough. Like I'll never be good enough… I'm sure these thoughts have echoed about his hollow skull on numerous occasions…
All I've ever done is try to please him, but never once has he noticed or cared. He pays no attention to me when I do something he'd be proud of, but when I slip up… He's ALWAYS right there to witness my failure. I don't even try to argue my case anymore. Why waste my breath when I won't even be heard? Just tonight, I tried to reason with him… I was met with a cane to the back, with my pajamas offering little protection. I don't know how I can be the son he wants. I've tried everything that I can think of, but it's still not enough for him! I've worn myself ragged, desperately searching for his approval. I've even consented to get a wicked brand that I have no real desire to carry! All to please him! All that work and where has it gotten me?
I hate to admit it, but I fear him. I fear my father more than anything else. I care nothing of the Dark Lord, for he would be my salvation from this awful place I call my home. He would bring death swiftly and painlessly upon me. Father is far less merciful. He gets some twisted pleasure from my tortured cries. He never gives my scars time to heal, nor does he give any sort of forewarning before he strikes. He is terrified, I can tell. He is lost and confused, unsure of the future now that He has returned. All his pent-up fear, anxiety and loathing is taken out on me. What did I ever do? Clearly he has forgotten that he was the one who wanted the Dark Lord back. Hell, I didn't even want to become a bloody death eater in the first place! But did I get a say in the matter? Well, why would I? After all, it's my life so, naturally, someone else should get to control in, right?
I've often contemplated taking my life with my own two hands. I've always found suicide to be a rather romantic notion. But it is the coward's way out. It would be far too easy to slit my throat with a sharpened blade, or to drink poison from a silver goblet. Besides, that would give him what he wanted, and we can't have that… Perhaps I could convince Weasley or Potter to end my wretched life… It would not take much prompting… A simple incident, a hexing perhaps, could surely suffice…